A Year In Motion
by Miss.Mil
Summary: She looks tired, and she looks sad. He'd heard the rumours as to why; her personal life in ruins. But until she told him herself, Jack would pretend he didn't know. TAG season 8 onwards.
1. A Cold January

_A series based on months of the year that occurs post-'Threads'. My take on how Jack and Sam progress their relationship from where they were at the end of the 'Threads' and onwards. There will be 12 parts in all._

 _TAG to season 8 onwards._

* * *

January is always cold at the cabin, the endless wind chilling down to the bone of the poor soul who was unfortunate enough to be stuck outside in it. The snow over the nights would eventually build up, crowding the frozen window sills and wooden doorways. The days were short, and the night settled around the cabin like a blanket of black silk, enveloping them all.

It was New Year's Eve before the four of them had successfully made it to the cabin after the hell of a year they had. Christmas was spent sorting out problems back at the base, arranging transfers and tidying up loose ends. It really wasn't anybody's idea of fun.

The death of Jacob Carter had hit them all hard.

Carter is trying to be strong in her own way. But Jack can see through the facade, watching helplessly as walls began to crumble.

Jack sighs to himself as he busies himself in the kitchen. The snow had come as predicted, effectively banning the four of them from going anywhere else at least until the roads had cleared from ice.

He didn't think any of them would really mind.

The three members of his former team sit down in the den where he observes them from a distance. Daniel and Teal'c speak in hushed tones, debating over the new Free Jaffa Nation and their prospective leadership. Carter sits a bit away in the single chair by the window she had come to claim as hers over the years. Her legs are tucked up underneath her as she cradles the tea in her favourite yellow mug.

Jack hates yellow, and that god-awful mug. But he can never bring himself to get rid of it.

Her thoughts are elsewhere and Jack watches her with fascination as she stares unblinking out the window into the dark of the night. She looks tired, and she looks sad. He'd heard the rumours as to why; her personal life in ruins. But until she told him herself, Jack would pretend he didn't know.

Jack finishes up the dishes, placing the last of them away in the cupboard where they would probably sit for another year, unused until the next great Holiday. He heads down to the den, flopping himself loosely in his chair, beer in hand. Something in his mind tells him that it should probably be his last beer for the evening.

Their all too melancholy even without the alcohol.

Carter still hasn't moved from her spot by the window; the tea now long-cold but still clasped in her hands.

The clock ticks over to the New Year, and none of them really notice. The mood in the room is solemn, all of them too caught up in the changes that will come to their little family with the coming of the New Year.

Daniel and Teal'c quietly wander off to bed, leaving Jack and Carter alone in the room.

She still hasn't moved.

They sit for some time as Jack thinks things over, content to just leave her be.

Eventually Jack gets up to dispose of his empty beer bottle. He moves toward carter, removing the yellow mug from her hand with gentle force and taking it to the kitchen.

It's well past one in the morning by the time he looks at the clock.

'Carter,' he starts.

A twitch in neck tells him she has heard him, but she continues to stare out the window.

He moves to sit down opposite her.

There has been few times in their years together where Jack had felt completely at a loss as to how to comfort her. The loss of Daniel, and then Janet proved the most difficult. After Janet, it was many months until he felt like he was doing a good enough job.

He'd been there for her as her CO, but not as the friend she needed. Or was it something more?

In a strange twist, he finds himself almost wishing Daniel hadn't gone to bed and he was here instead.

'You doing okay?'

It is stupid to ask, but he has to fill the silence. The need to make her smile is too great.

She deflects his question easily, turning around in the chair to face him fully.

'Daniel and Teal'c gone?'

With a flick of his head, he indicates roughly. 'Uh, yeah. Down the hall. Snow, you know,' he trails off.

She shifts abruptly. She's too smart not to reason the weather would keep them all here. But that's not what is really on her mind.

'So, DC?'

The change in conversation startles him for a minute.

'Yeah.' Jack answers, unsure of where the conversation is going.

She looks at him with tired eyes. 'Thought you'd retire before I saw you go to DC.'

The comment is faint, but he hears it anyway. He swallows thickly.

'Never thought I'd see you go to Nevada,' he counters softly.

She shrugs. 'Everybody is moving on. I thought it was time I did too.'

'That's not entirely true.'

They stare at each other for a good moment. The ticking of the clock in the hall fills the silence.

In reality, she was the one who had tried to move on first, beginning a life with a cop that suited her no more than snow suited Africa. But it wasn't Jack's place to point this out.

She looks tired, he acknowledges. He feels weary too. The last few days – weeks, months, and years – have taken a toll on all of them. They no longer look like the SG-1 that sits in a photograph on his mantel piece. His hair has gotten greyer, his face more lined and he knows he has become more cynical.

Daniel is more of a solider now than the geeky archaeologist he once was, but he too shows the lines on his face of a warrior that has seen battle for many years. Teal'c is much the same, aging slower than the rest of them. Only his eyes tell of a man who has sacrificed so much for his people.

Carter is no longer the young, bright-eyed Scientist-Doctor-Captain she used to be at the start of the program. The years have gotten to her in a way that didn't reach the rest of the team. She had endured more loss than any of them combined, with the loss of so many close friends and would be lovers. Her spirit was fading with each death that came to pass.

And now she had lost her Dad.

She still has her enthusiasm for how the world works; the scientist in her never at rest. But the years have weighed heavily down on her shoulders.

He realises now that her attempt at a normal life with Pete was the only way she knew how to find that part of herself that had become lost. She needed something stable in her life; something that he couldn't afford to offer.

Jack bites the bullet. He figures at this point, they may as well be honest with each other.

'What does Pete think about you going to Nevada?'

She narrows her eyes sharply, inhaling deeply.

'He doesn't know I'm going.'

The topic of the Police Officer-turned-interfering-asshole was strictly one they both avoided for the past two years.

But Jack is surprised at her candid answer. He raises his eyebrows in question.

Carter glances down, fiddling with a bit of lint on the sleeve of her well-worn jumper.

'I, uh called off the engagement.'

Although Jack knows that she had doubts, he never really expected to hear _that_ from her with such startling clarity and force.

The surprise shows in his face as she continues. 'A little while ago. Actually, it was the day Dad died.'

She breathes out in a rush.

He nods slowly in understanding. Jacob had died more than a month ago, and Carter had been a bit off ever since. It makes sense now, as he thinks it over in the dull light of the den. Deep down he knew the reason, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. The question was too dangerous.

And if he was really honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Of course, only Carter could see that the engagement was a failure rather than a choice that she made because it was best for her.

And Jack was going to be the first one to tell her that the choice was the best one she'd ever made.

One day. But that day isn't right now. Emotions are too raw, and they are both too fragile.

Instead he settles for a simple question. 'Why?'

She looks at him with startling clarity in her blue eyes, as if she really sees him for the first time in that month that has passed.

'Because it just felt wrong. And he deserved more than someone who was just settling.'

The words sound foreign to Jack's ears. And he has never been so relieved to hear them.

He clears his throat roughly, breaking the tense silence. 'You know, I tired that once.'

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in a tantalising way that makes Jack wonder if she'll do that again for him someday, in a different setting that involved both of them with very little clothing.

'Settling,' he finishes, gesturing roughly between them in an attempt to cover up his awkwardness.

Sam tucks her legs up closer to her, pulling the sleeves of her jumper down over her hands in a gesture that Jack finds oddly comforting.

'How did that work out?' Sam asks, her voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Jack shakes his head. 'Never works.'

She smiles gently and he stands up.

'Come on,' he holds out his hand. 'C'mere.'

It's their standard form of communication, and she unfolds herself from the chair. Without the combat boots he is used to seeing her in, the height difference is noticeable so that her hair tickles the underside of his chin as he holds her in the same embrace they've used for years when the line became too blurred.

The conversation is far from over, but he knows that's it for the night. They are both tired and it's time to rest.

They stand together for a moment, before Jack pulls back slowly, stepping aside and gently pushing her off in the direction of the spare room. She smiles knowingly, padding her way past him and up the hall.

He turns off the last light, following her down the hall and heading into his own room.

In the darkness, alone in his bed, the coldness of the howling wind outside doesn't seem so bad anymore.

o-O-o

A few days later the snow finally clears enough for the four to leave the cabin. It's a quiet moment as they say their goodbyes on the front step. Things are changing, and they all feel it.

Jack jests that they will see him at the SGC because someone has to make sure Hank Landry is running the place the way it should be run. Daniel smiles and Teal'c inclines his head.

They know that all of them are going to do the same; check in with each other in a way that makes them closer than just a frontline team.

It's only Carter that doesn't smile. Jack knows why, but he doesn't call her on it.

They are all adjusting to the change.

It's January after all, and they have a whole year ahead of themselves.

Teal'c and Daniel head off soon enough, Teal'c in the driver's seat of his SUV, still smug over his recent victory over the Replicaters and Goau'ld. They wave cheerfully, joking that Jack will never be able to stay away from the SGC and that they will see him soon.

They don't mention Daniel's planned trip to Atlantis, or Teal'c departing for Dakaara the day after next.

Soon it's just Sam and Jack, standing outside the wooden door of his cabin, the wind whipping fiercely at their faces.

Neither knows what to say. It's not goodbye, but in light of their conversation the night before, Jack feels like he is standing on the edge of a very large chasm, and that at any moment he could fall.

He never imagines in all his years that this moment could be so pivotal.

'I should go,' her voice is carried by the wind.

Jack nods slowly. 'Sure. You'll be alright?'

They both know it's not the right time to ask her to stay.

'Of course, Sir.'

It's the first time she has used that word over the Holiday. He isn't entirely pleased to hear it, but it is how it must be. Their new roles are yet to be established, and they are both adjusting to massive changes.

In a moment seemingly out of character for the solider he has come to know, Sam leans forward and chastely kisses him on his cheek, before turning swiftly and heading down the path to her car.

Jack hears the snow crunch under her feet as she moves away.

'Hey Carter!' he calls.

She turns back toward him, golden hair brushing across her pale cheeks with the wind. Her blue eyes are shining bright again.

'This new job in DC...' he shoves his hands into the thick lining of his jacket. 'One of the perks is I have to make regular trips to Nevada, to you know, make sure you gee-uh-scientists are on track out there.'

She grins widely, a faint brush creeping up her cheeks. She tucks the hair behind her ear.

'Counting on it Sir.'

Jack laughs as she climbs into her car, turning the engine over and setting off down the road.

January was bringing with it a whole heap of change.

And for the first time in a month, the change was no longer bearing down on their shoulders.

It would be February before Jack would see Carter again. And he couldn't wait.


	2. Rain in February

_And so we move on to chapter two. Thank you to all the follows and interest in this series, it has been amazing._

 _We continue on the journey with our favourite duo as we move into the month of February!_

* * *

 **A Year in Motion: Rain in February**

The irony of the month of February being associated with water is not lost on Sam as she stands on the runway of Groom Lake. Of all the days for it to rain in Nevada, it has to be this one. She waits impatiently, watching as the aircraft lands in what seems like slow motion. Before long, his tall figure is striding across the runway; blue overcoat moving in the cold breeze.

Sam draws her own coat around her tightly. For the desert, it can be really cold here.

She salutes him as he comes close.

'Sir.'

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he is trying hard not to smile. He salutes her back with a quick glance at the people who stand behind her. It's not the first time she wishes they were gone, because she'd really like to do something very un-Colonel like and hug the General.

She really misses him.

But she misses all of them; Daniel, Teal'c, General Hammond.

Life goes on but she is craving the familiarity of the old times.

They make their way into the facility, passing through several corridors before arriving at her office. Small, dully-lit and the complete opposite of the lab she had at the SGC. It's another reminder that her life here is so different.

She stands stiffly as he places his briefcase down on the chair.

'So, Carter. Nice chair.'

She grins, the tension leaving her body. 'Thanks Sir.

What she really wants to say is "how have you been?" but this is not the place for such personal discussions with several scientists hovering just outside her door. She feels on edge given their parting words a month ago at his cabin.

A part of her still can't believe it's happened; that they are no longer in the same chain of command.

He removes his cover and runs his hand through the short grey spikes; water droplets landing on the floor.

She clears her throat. 'Well, uh, where would you like to start?' God, that question could be answered so many ways.

Sam watches as he resists the urge to roll his eyes. The idea of having a full three days at Groom Lake dedicated to technological-based lectures and updates was so not the O'Neill idea of fun. He glances out the window to the corridor, sighing as he sees the line-up of people just itching to gloat about their latest find.

'Start with whichever will be the least boring, Carter.'

She can't help the grin. 'For you Sir, they will all be boring.' She states it so matter-of-fact that the surprise on his face is obvious as he pauses mid-way to fixing his water-logged overcoat on its way to the coat stand.

'Touché Carter.'

She feels his eyes on her as she moves out of the door in front of him, pushing her way past the people outside her office to the first place he needs to go. They arrive quickly, and Sam stops outside the door, an air of a smirk on her face.

'Here you are, Sir. Doctor Williams is waiting for you. I'll tell your aid where you are.'

He stands, staring at her with a look of disbelief on his face.

'Carter, are you seriously going to leave a General alone in a complex full of gee-er-scientists?'

She smiles at him indulgently. 'Yes Sir. Sorry.'

She turns on her heel and walks briskly down the corridor, the heels of her dress shoes echoing loudly. 'Have fun!'

The scoff he utters can be heard from the other end of the corridor.

o-O-o

It's many hours later, the hands of the clock indicating that the day has moved well into the night, and Sam sits behind her desk, tapping madly on the keyboard of her computer.

She would never admit it to herself, but the house she has in Nevada is just not home to her, and she spends more time in her office than she does elsewhere. The office is not the lab from the SGC she misses, but the pictures behind her somehow make it feel more personal than the house or base quarters.

A loud scuffle from outside her door distracts her for a moment. The door opens wildly, and a rather relieved General steps in.

'Carter.'

His stare penetrates through the room, and the corners of her mouth begin to lift in a supressed smile. The whole thing is ridiculous, a General hiding because he doesn't want to listen to more scientific babble. He looks like he has had a long, suffering day.

'General,' she acknowledges, closing the lid to her laptop with a definite click.

She holds her breath, waiting. She doesn't know what they are doing. The shift is now perceptible, the light-hearted banter gone as the day has slowly turned dark.

She doesn't know what they are doing.

They stare at each other for a moment. The change from team mates to something with the potential for more is easier than she expected, but she admits it's because nothing has really started either. This is the first time they've seen each other since those few days at his cabin in January.

They haven't even had that conversation that she has been thinking of for years. Admittedly they were never going to jump each other the second they were out of the same chain of command. But she didn't expect nearly two months to have passed and all they'd managed was a brief promise of something more in between snow falls at his cabin.

And it was beginning to get as awkward as hell.

'So, dinner?' O'Neill tosses casually, the voice slicing through the atmosphere easily.

'Sure,' Sam answers, knowing that the only place they'd be going was the mess given the late hour. She knows nothing personal will ever happen in any military base.

They stroll quietly down the corridor, Sam's thoughts far away.

By the time they reach the mess hall, most of the staff has gone home and there is nothing but a few sandwiches left. She opts for something simple and grabs a juice.

No blue jell-o here.

That's just another thing she hates about Nevada in a list that is starting to get rather long.

O'Neill is munching on a donut. She doesn't think that between his donut, and her juice, this could really be classed as dinner.

He waves the iced ring around as he speaks. 'So, Carter. Do I really have to be here another two days?'

Sam resists the urge to roll her eyes. 'Well I suppose you don't have to Sir, but for the record, your visits are a lot nicer than some of the other generals that come here.'

His dark eyes twinkle as he takes another mouthful of donut. 'Why Carter, I didn't know you cared.'

She looks taken aback for a moment at the sincerity in his voice, swallowing before plastering a look on her face that fails to hide how unnerved she really is about seeing him again.

She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, her eyes dropping to the juice in her hand, fingers picking idly at the label.

'Do you like it here in Nevada?'

His voice cuts through the silence. The question is the bluntest one he's ever asked, and it's laced with everything personal they try so hard to avoid.

'I am getting through a lot of interesting projects. All the things I've wanted to do but didn't have time when I was on SG-1.'

It's her standard response, and she can tell his doesn't buy it. But he lets it slide for now and for that she is grateful.

'Okay,' he replies with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

Sam sighs. 'I guess I am just not sure if this is really the right place for me.' She picks up on his disbelief in her previous answer and figures that if they really are going to give this a chance; they may as well be honest.

Jack nods. 'Well, Hank has been at me every day to send you back to the SGC if that's where you want to go.'

Sam's heart jolts. A transfer back to the SGC would snuff whatever this was. After eight years of waiting, Sam wasn't sure she wanted to give that chance away.

She's not even sure how Jack feels about her.

But she doesn't feel like she can ask him.

'I'd like to give it a few more months to settle in before I make any decisions,' she reasons. 'And I still have my Indian to keep me entertained.'

Jack smiles at her. 'How could I forget?'

The clock is nearing midnight, and Sam knows she should probably say goodnight and head home. She can feel a beat of panic at the back of her mind, as if ending their conversation might just end this easy banter they've had going.

Sam sighs and stands up. She can feel the gaze of Jack on her as she almost hears the burning question as to whether she is going home or staying on base. She knows the General will be on base, and somehow she thinks it would be better for the both of them if she goes home for the night.

'I can't believe it's past midnight,' she says, attempting to fill the silence.

She can hear him groan.

'The downside of being old Carter, you can't pull the all-nighters you used to.'

Sam laughs. 'You are far from old Sir.'

Jack runs his hand over his face uncomfortably.

'I'll uh, walk you to your quarters Sir.'

She catches Jack's surprised glance.

'It's on my way out,' she shrugs by way of explanation. She guessed now she had just answered her own question on where she was staying tonight. And it isn't on base.

The tension between them only grows with each step toward his base quarters before they bid each other goodnight.

o-O-o

As it turns out, they barely see much of each other during the remaining two days of the General's visit to Groom Lake. She's been busy with her head buried deep in projects and if she is really honest, she has no idea what the General has been up to.

He has been out of her way and she is entirely grateful.

She doesn't need his distraction right now.

But a part of her still yearns for the days he would come into her lab at SGC, touching anything he could get his hands on just to annoy her. Of course, that had really only started after Daniel banned O'Neill from his lab after breaking a five thousand year old piece of pottery.

It's now early on Friday morning, and Sam is pushing her way through the corridors to make it to her office. The General will be leaving, heading back to DC, and she knows it will be unlikely that she will see him beforehand.

She doesn't even know what she would say.

So many questions are burning at the back of her mind, but she can never find the right time to say them. It seemed the only time she could voice the words was when she was sure one of them was going to die. Even then, Jack would never let her voice the words.

The engine bay of a cargo ship comes to mind; the two of them standing close as the lights from the engines flash around them.

She'd been so angry that he hadn't let her say the words.

But even angrier that his 'goodbye' had been laced with so many more emotions. She could never forget the way his eyes followed her as the sleep took over; leaving him in the frozen earth for a second time. The anger still hasn't really ebbed away after the months have gone past. But she pushes it to the back of her mind.

Sam pushes the door open with more force than she intends, grimacing as it slips from her hands and slams against the wall. 'Oops,' she mutters.

'Jesus Carter.'

She jumps, whirling around. Jack stares at her, smirking over the rim of his coffee cup.

And he is sitting in her chair.

They stare at each other for a few beats.

'What's with the flowers?' he asks, gesturing with his mug toward the offending yellow buds on the side of her desk.

She idly wonders how he didn't notice them in his previous visits to her office. Or maybe he did.

'They're from, uh, Mackay.'

Sam watches with interest as his eyebrows rise, then lower, then crease.

'Why?' he throws out sarcastically.

His disdain for the other scientist has been nothing if not obvious.

Sam coughs, arching an eyebrow. 'It's February,' she says simply.

She watches as the thoughts process through, and she can pin point the exact moment he gives up before growling out a grumpy 'so?'

'They're for Valentine's Day,' she can hear the embarrassment leaching into her voice.

The General snaps his hand back from the flowers, his eyes rising to glare at her from across the room.

Sam raises her chin stubbornly, refusing to be embarrassed. 'He sends them every year,' she shrugs.

'Isn't he you know, in another galaxy?'

'Sometimes it's nice to be thought of,' she says simply.

He opens his mouth to respond, but a sharp knock at the door cuts off what Sam thinks was a perfectly timed, witty reply. A junior officer steps through, glancing awkwardly between the two of them.

'General, your aircraft is waiting.'

Sam watches as he stands, grabbing his cover and striding toward her. She salutes him farewell, smiling as he rolls his eyes.

The dull ache in her chest stays all day as she idly goes about her projects, a longing for his company that will not go away until she sees him again. It's much later, hours after she received a short email informing her that he made it safely back to DC, and she sits staring at the yellow flowers.

The small card attached to the side of the wrapping has Mackay's smug attitude all over it. They've settled into a friendship in the last year or so, but the distance with him being in another galaxy has a lot to do with it.

She doesn't mind the flowers, but if anyone asks it annoys the hell out of her. Valentine's Day has always given her comfort, it reminds her that there is still something bright in her world that is so often filled with death and darkness. She hasn't celebrated since Janet died.

But something tells her that next Valentine's Day will be different to this one.

And the clichéd roses and chocolates will be coming from someone who hates the very idea of said clichés.

Fin.


	3. Moving Toward March

Hi all,

Apologies for the delay in posting the next part of A Year in Motion. My dear laptop died, and with it went some of my latest works. Incredibly poor timing over Christmas, but now I am back up and running with generation 3 of my dear laptop!

Enjoy.

* * *

A Year in Motion: Moving Toward March

The air is warmer now with the beginning of March, the flowers of spring beginning to bloom as the last of winter melts away. Sam fidgets in her seat. For an Air Force officer who had spent the better half of her career flying, she is unusually nervous on this flight. Civil service planes aside, it is just ten minutes until they touch down at Washington airport, and she is nervous as hell.

Later, she'll tell herself that the impromptu flight to the nation's capital was done in the interest of her new position at Groom Lake, a pressing need to have a face-to-face meeting with her superiors. But deep down she knows she is doing it as a step toward their new found freedom in terms of their relationship.

If you can even call it a relationship.

She isn't sure what they are, but she knows they aren't sticking to the rules of junior and senior officers anymore. They haven't talked about it properly, and she is hanging in the promise laced through his words as they parted company at his cabin in January.

Soon enough, she finds herself standing outside the arrivals area, a small bag in hand as she wonders not for the first time what she is really doing here.

She takes a deep breath as she steps into the cab.

o-O-o

Jack sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He is just about to yell for his secretary when she pokes her head around the door.

'General?'

He narrows his eyes. 'You know, my last chief sergeant has this uncanny ability to appear whenever I needed him. You seem to have inherited this annoying, but somewhat useful talent.'

His secretary blushes, and opens her mouth to apologise. Jack stops her with a wave of his hand.

'Just tell me, can I go yet?'

Jane smiles. 'Yes General, you can go home.'

'Thank you!' Jack lets out with a somewhat pained sound of triumph.

Nothing is getting in his way; it's Friday, and he is getting out of here. Before Jane can stop him, he swings his briefcase up off the chair, grabs his cover and overcoat before making a quick escape through the door. The downside of being a two-star General was the sheer amount of paperwork, and he wasn't afraid to tell anyone who would listen how much he hates it.

He weaves his way through the corridors, avoiding eye contact with anyone who looks like they might stop him. He is in the process of giving a junior officer a particularly menacing glare when he spies a flash of blonde and rather long legs whipping around a corner.

He blinks and increases his stride, hoping to catch a better glance.

Surely not.

'Carter?'

The blonde whirls around and he is caught off guard by intense blue eyes he hasn't seen in a while. His heart thuds painfully in his chest.

God, he's missed her.

'Sir,' she smiles.

She looks good. Too good.

'Whatcha doin'?' He tosses out casually, as if he had just breezed into her lab to interrupt an important project rather than standing in the lobby of a government building, junior officers gawking at the two of them and failing at pretending they aren't.

'Uh, well I just had a meeting with General Vidrine about the latest...'

She launches off into an overly thorough explanation as to her presence in Washington, but he doesn't care. He isn't listening. Jack is just happy to see her.

Carter stops talking, and looks at him intently; it catches him unaware as he stares blankly at her. She picks up on his momentary lapse of concentration.

'I asked you how you find Washington, Sir.'

'Ah,' he replies. 'Oh you know, I love politics.' He flicks an invisible piece of lint from the sleeve of his jacket.

She flashes him a grin.

'Heading out?' He asks, flicking his briefcase toward the elevators in the corner.

'Yes Sir,' Carter nods, taking a step toward the exit and he follows suit.

They fall into idle chit chat as they pick their way through the last of the building, a few junior officers scrambling around trying to get things sorted for their bosses. It's been a long time since Jack has really talked to her. His last attempt at trying to delve a little deeper into Carter's world resulted in the not-so-shocking revelation that Pete had proposed.

If he is really honest with himself, he wasn't surprised. Any guy would have to be stupid not to marry Carter. Two men had asked that he knew of, and he's sure a dozen others would have thought about it at one stage.

His reaction to the news was what he wasn't proud of. Her straightforward, honest question was met with a very cryptic and cold answer, and it took all of his will power to ignore the burning sincerity and hope in her eyes. But surely she understood that he couldn't very well say 'please don't marry that schmuck' in the middle of her lab inside a military base.

But maybe he should have.

Regardless, here they are two years later, and things seem to be going well. The friendship they had lost in the year Daniel ascended was starting to show itself again.

Jack has this nagging feeling that if he tries too hard to hold onto this feeling, the fragile fragments of their new found friendship might just crumble away.

'You hungry?' He suddenly blurts, surprising himself.

He notices the way she twists her hands in response. She's just as unsure as he is. 'Uh, sure.'

'Great, I'm starving!' Jack says with his usual enthusiasm.

Sam grins, and strides easily beside him. Thank god the woman can walk in heels.

Despite the spring feeling, the air was still quite cool for March and Jack suddenly finds himself wishing for more than just his light overcoat. Carter must be freezing. A few months and she'd already adjusted to the Nevada heat.

A quick glance toward her confirms his suspicions; her lips are slowly getting a blue tinge.

'Carter, I know we've done the freezing-to-death thing a few times, so let's say we stop here,' he jokes, waving his hand at a restaurant on the corner.

Her facial expression shows she doesn't find the joke nearly as funny as he intends.

'Sure, Sir.'

He is about to tell her to lose the sir, but thinks better of it.

The restaurant is casual, nothing too fancy and suits them both down to a tee. It's awkward at first, but soon they settle into the rhythm of talking once their food has been ordered. It's reminding Jack a lot of their relationship early on in the program, when the flirting was deemed innocent enough and the not-so-accidental touches were allowed; each thinking the other didn't feel the same way.

He admits to himself that this is the first time he has really looked at her. The concerned glances in his cabin didn't count, being far too concerned with her emotional side to notice the physical.

She looks almost content with the way things are. The stress lines around her eyes are no longer there. Maybe Nevada suits her.

'Are you happy at Nevada?'

He asks her the same question that he voiced only five weeks ago, in a similar setting in the commissary of Groom Lake.

Her eyes move up to his, the question in them unguarded.

'I guess I'm still figuring out if that's where I need to be.'

Her answer almost mirrors her previous one. Jack can see through it though. She misses SG-1. If he's honest with himself, he does too.

Jack plays with his beer glass, swirling the froth at the bottom.

'I miss the team,' Carter whispers as she flicks the bottom of her wine glass, the contents still mostly untouched. He isn't even sure why she ordered wine.

'You could go back?' he offers.

Carter shrugs, folding her hands in her lap as she looks at him. 'It's not the same.'

He knows the feeling; they are all craving what they once had. Really, nothing had been the same after Daniel. The happy team attitude they had in their fourth year had gone and never returned. The threats built up and became too much over the years. And the two military officers built a wall between them that refused to come down.

Somehow though, there were little cracks there now. With each day the lines grew bigger, stretching out as little holes formed, parts of the wall crumbling away.

'Carter, we can't ever go back to what we had,' he states with a sigh, registering how it sounds as soon as it leaves his mouth. 'I mean, as a team. We're all different now,' he shrugs.

Carter sighs. 'I know. I just never thought I'd see us so far away, you know. Teal'c spends more time off-world, Daniel wants to go to Atlantis, you're here…'

She trails off, and he finally gets it.

There were no magical fireworks as they finally defeated the Goa'uld, and there was no amazing moment where they fell into each other's arms only to profess their love like the end of some sappy clichéd romantic movie.

Maybe that's what kept them both going over the years, that elusive promise of one day.

And yet here they are, unable to express those words even though they are finally able to.

'I just thought now that we aren't at the SGC, things would be a bit different,' Carter blurts it out a rush, her hands now tightly holding on to the knife on the table.

Jack's heart lurches.

'They still can be,' he offers quietly.

She is just about to open her mouth with a reply when the shrill ring of a cell phone ricochets around them.

Jack grimaces. 'O'Neill.'

Carter watches him intently throughout the course of his call, as though she is running through their conversation and finishing it in her head without ever saying a word.

In the end, he has to go. Regretfully he leaves Carter, protesting as she shoves him out the door insisting she will get this bill.

He smiles at the folded napkin in his hand, the scribbled address to her hotel leaching ink onto his palm.

Clichés be damned.

o-O-o

It's far later than he would have liked when he is finally able to leave the office. It's very early Saturday morning, and clearly national emergencies have no sense of timing when it comes to personal weekends away.

Jack is standing outside the hotel, gazing up at the windows as the bell boy watches him sceptically.

He isn't sure if he should go inside. The written words on the napkin burning a hole through his pocked tell him otherwise.

But it's late. Early. Whatever.

Carter should still be awake.

He scoots his way pass the bellboy with an air of grace. Three knocks and one minute; that's how long he'll give her to answer the door.

She answers after only half a minute.

Her hair is ruffled, the ends slightly damp and curling from the shower she's had earlier. The T-shirt she wears is well faded and far too large.

It occurs to Jack in that moment that he has never seen her quite so unguarded. But then again, he never really had them both in a situation where she could be.

'Carter,' he clears his throat roughly.

She eyes him carefully, blue eyes watching with the intelligence he'd come to love.

'Uh,' he really isn't sure what to say. In fact, he isn't really sure what he is doing here in the first place.

'Want to come in?'

She saves him the trouble of explaining his presence. He enters the room cautiously, and hangs his cover by the door.

'You save the world again?' Her voice is light as she toys with him.

'Of course,' he answers seriously. 'Do we ever do anything else?'

She smiles at him before padding back across the room and curling up on the bed.

'I'm watching this movie,' she offers.

He is standing stiffly by the door, his uniform a stark reminder in the dim room of what they are.

Two Air Force Officers together in a hotel room teetering on the edge of a line they really shouldn't cross.

But then again maybe they wouldn't cross that line tonight.

Jack wanders over to the bed, strips of his jacket and shoes and climbs up next to her.

'What's it about?' he asks.

Carter sighs. 'Some stupid romantic movie with a ridiculously clichéd movie.'

Jack grins. 'But they are the ones you just can't help but watch, right?'

Carter shrugs. 'Of course.' There is a wicked tone to her voice.

The movie rolls on after the commercials, and for a while he sits there quietly, not really watching the movie but not really thinking about anything either.

He feels this incredibly feeling of content.

Jack ends up falling asleep not long after, tucked up next to Carter on a stupidly small hotel bed.

Saturday morning dawns bright and clear, and Carter is on the first flight back to Nevada. She slips out quietly before he is really awake, whispering a goodbye that weaves its way into his dreams.

The Monday morning back at work, he flicks her a brief email that says more than what he could when she was there.

He teases her about migrating back to the warmer weather as DC has an unusual cold snap over the following days.

A reply email comes swifter than expected. He smiles, and suddenly his day seems brighter.

In the end, they didn't cross that line. Maybe they will some day. But it's March.

Their year is just beginning.

Fin.


	4. Always in April

_Hi All,_

 _I apologise for the delay in the update. I had a lot of trouble uploading this from my new Mac Air. Anyway. It is now here!_

 _Enjoy. And now I have to get back to my contract law essay._

 _Miss-Mil_

* * *

 **A Year in Motion: Always in April**

'Carter, I rarely say this. But you're wrong,' Jack O'Neill's eyes gleam with triumph as he stares at her from across the table.

They sit in a quiet bar, somewhere in downtown Washington where they are least likely to run in to the people they know. More like the people who know _them._ It's late in the evening for both of them, and he has an early start tomorrow.

She has an early plane to catch.

But it's been weeks since they've seen each other, and even longer since they've had more than five minutes to exchange quick words. She has been eyes-deep in research, SG-1 is getting their asses handed to them and Cam has been nagging her to move back to the SGC.

Jack has been stuck in endless meetings now that there is a new enemy out there. From the reports she's read, a part of her wishes that they were back trying to kill Apophis. The technology coming back through the gate is so far over her head, she can almost hear the voice of Nareem calling them primitive.

Sam opens her mouth to respond, braces herself to argue her point in earnest and the word 'Sir' very nearly slips out.

It's a near-miss that O'Neill catches. Sam sees the grimace flicker over his face.

'I am never wrong,' she smirks, trying to salvage the conversation. Somehow that sentence feels like it needs the Sir at the end of it.

'Carter,' Jack stops swirling the coffee in his cup for a moment, glaring at her above the rim. 'There is _always_ room for desert.'

Sam feels herself smile.

The lines of tension and uneasiness with their relationship is still present at the corners of their eyes. Sam wonders if she will ever lose the ability to automatically add 'sir' to everything.

It probably doesn't help that he hasn't called her 'Sam' since their second year in the program. Somehow she thinks that she will always be Carter to him.

'Somethin' on your mind?'

His question cuts through her thoughts.

'Uh,' Sam isn't sure what to say. 'I was just thinking.'

'I'd be shocked if you ever stopped, Carter.'

She ignores his comment and blurts it out. 'Why do you still call me Carter?'

Jack's face flickers for a moment, and in the candlelight, Sam can't be really sure of what she saw. The bar is noisy, people are talking loudly and rain echoes off the windows outside.

It's the perfect place for a personal conversation.

She watches with guarded eyes as Jack takes a long bite of his chocolate cake. 'Just do.'

And that's the end of that. After four months of a different posting, and over eight years serving with each other, it's amazing how he can still cut her down with just two words.

Sam averts her eyes, finding the barman washing glasses suddenly more interesting than the man sitting in front of her. The air is tense, and she can feel Jack's eyes on her. She can help but snort at the delicacy of the situation. If they were anybody else, they'd have been jumping each other the second they got their new commands.

But this is them. Sam and Jack. And they do everything no other way than the hard way.

The curse of SG-1.

Sam shakes her head and turns away.

'I should head off.'

Jack lays his fork down gently. 'Carter,' his voice is softer than normal. The line that had been fading between them is well and truly drawn again.

Releasing a sigh, she brings her eyes back to him. 'What are we doing?'

The surprise registers in his eyes. He swallows thickly. 'I don't think we should talk about this here.'

Sam purses her lips and nods. She can almost hear Janet laughing at their awkwardness.

'Come on,' Jack states stiffly. 'I'll walk you back.'

She stands from her seat, grabbing the backrest as she moves out of the tight space. Jack waits patiently.

They push through the crowd, and her hand grazes his back. She jumps back at the contact. Heat radiates from his body through his thin shirt. She immediately feels him stiffen.

A small part of her is smug knowing that she can have that affect on him. She knows that's why they avoided contact over the years, and why he still calls her Carter.

It never really helped the situation though, if she's honest.

The smell of rain is fresh as they step outside. April is warming up, and the air is slightly humid. Rain drips from the leaves on the trees nearby, and small puddles form on the uneven bits of pavement.

She leans into him as the walk past the entrance to the bar and head through the nearby park. He's been here long enough to know the shortcuts back to her hotel. Jack still hasn't found an apartment. The idea of a city life really isn't Jack.

Her lips brush the underside of his jaw, the stubble sending sparks through her as it contacts on her soft skin.

Jack freezes mid-stride. He turns sharply, grabbing her waist to steady her as he knocks into her. His eyes are locked with hers, brown intensity boring into her.

'Carter,' his voice is low, almost warning.

She squares her shoulders and arches an eyebrow. 'Jack?'

'Whatcha doing?'

She stares at his lips. 'If you have to ask…'

Her words trail off as his other hand comes to grasp her hip. Suddenly she is walking backwards, Jack's hands guiding her as his eyes focus on her mouth. Her back hits the large oak tree they passed only moments before.

Her breaths are coming out raspy, she can feel his eyes on her, the twitching of his fingers as he tries to keep his hands still. The rain is coming down in soft, but persistent drops.

This is such a bad idea.

A finger moves up and grazes her skin under the soft material of her blouse. She jumps slightly at the contact, but understands the intention. He's waiting for her.

On unsteady feet and balancing with a hand on his chest, she leans up and grazes her lips across the side of his mouth. His hands grip tightly, and he pushes into her slightly, shifting his head so his mouth makes full contact with hers.

He is just as demanding as she knows he would be. The kiss is long and lingering, and he holds her with just enough force that she could move if she really wants to. She can taste the beer on his tongue, the intense chocolate from the dessert he'd been eating and something that's uniquely him.

It's a heady mix and it's going straight to her head.

She can hear the raindrops faintly around them, but she doesn't notice the damp hair strands slowly sinking into her eyes. She can't hear the footsteps of the people that pass them and pretend not to notice.

Jack moves a hand from her waist, bracing it up against the tree and effectively pinning her in place. Her hands play with the hem of his shirt, the moisture of the rain and sweat from humidity making it easy to glide her hands over his taught muscles.

She needs more. Her back arches off the tree, goosebumps cover her skin. Heat is pooling deep in her stomach.

Sam groans.

Jack pulls back just enough to stare at her. His eyes are dark, his brow creased as the drops of water slide down his face.

They are both breathing hard.

Her hands are still under his shirt, gripping the top of his jeans.

'Carter,' he starts, trying desperately to control his breathing. 'I don't think we should do this here.'

It's the second time in an hour she's been almost rejected. Suddenly she feels like a teenager, caught by her father on their front porch. She takes a sharp breath, the corners of her mouth curling into an apologetic smile. 'No, probably not,' she concedes.

Jack stares at her, shifting slightly as they both try to ignore the heat between them. 'What's this? Samantha Carter admitting she was wrong?' He pushes back from the tree, allowing Sam to stand up. A smirk crosses his face.

'Not quite,' she smiles as she fixes her blouse. Her hair is a mess, her clothes are wet and she's starting to freeze.

But as they walk through the rest of the park, decidedly _not_ touching the other, she can't help but feel that with each touch, the fears and doubts she had nagging at her were finally starting to wash away.

o-O-o

They stand in the doorway of her hotel room. They've been here before. Jack stands just out of reach, a stark ether of open air between them. He clears his throat.

Neither of them really know what to do.

'We should talk about this,' she states, an air of confidence in her voice that she sure as hell doesn't feel.

'Carter, we _never_ talk,' Jack tosses back.

She looks sad and defeated in the dim light. 'No I guess not.' He watches as she moves into the room, reaching the arm chair by the window.

Her silhouette is outlined in the window, the city lights reflecting of the sharp features in her face.

Jack moves in the door, and closes it softly behind him.

'It's just,' he starts, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. 'Not the right time.'

Sam turns to face him. 'It never is the right time.'

Jack sighs. 'No, I guess you are right about that.'

Sam smirks, a rare glimpse of humour in an otherwise dull situation. 'I'm always right.'

They stand, staring at each other. The echo of the cars down on the neighbouring streets are loud in an otherwise silent room.

'Will we ever work this out?' Sam asks sadly.

'Sure,' Jack answers. His tone is light; like he'd just told her that Ori were less of a threat than the Gou'ald ever were.

He can't even believe his own lie.

'I thought this would be the easy part, you know,' Sam states, flicking bits of invisible dirt from the back of the arm chair. Her fingers are slender and pale in the dim lights.

It suddenly strikes Jack that he never once saw her wearing her engagement ring. He wonders briefly were she kept it when she was working. God knows he'd been close enough to her at times to see it was obviously _not_ on her dog tags.

'Carter, what we do is never easy.'

She laughs. 'No, it isn't.'

The words hang between them.

He sees her swallow roughly. 'Do you want to stay tonight?'

The invitation is open, and he isn't entirely sure what her intentions are. He is still mildly uncomfortable in his pants from their earlier encounter.

'Carter,' Jack pauses, and he can see that she is bracing herself for rejection. 'I will always be here for you. No matter what.'

God, if that doesn't sound like rejection, what does? He opens his mouth to correct his error, but Carter beats him to it.

'You know, you said that to me once before.'

He raises his eyebrows. 'I have?'

Sam shrugs. Clearly she isn't going to elaborate, but changes her mind swiftly. 'When I was on _Prometheus_.'

'Ah.'

He knew that she had hallucinated, he'd read the reports. But she'd never told him what they consisted of. Now he is infinitely more curious.

'Was I lying?'

She gives a small smile, the corners of her mouth edging upwards ever so slightly he was afraid he might have imagined it.

'No.'

Her answer is simple, and soft. He's never let her down, and he isn't about to start.

'Carter, as much as I would love nothing more than to stay here with you tonight…' he trails off, unsure of where to finish it. Rather, unsure of what to say.

She smiles. 'You have to work?' she's giving him an out, a reason to leave things where they are. Her tone is the same one she's used before, and Jack finds himself instantly transported back to a concrete room four years earlier, her blatant offer to leave it 'in the room' giving him an out even then.

'Well, yes I do,' he answers slowly.

It's not a lie

But her lips are pursed, and she's looking at him expectantly. It's like she's suddenly just decided to stop putting words in his mouth.

How very un-Carter like.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing and shuffling his feet. 'Carter, I'm not really sure what you want me to do here.'

Jack sees her swallow roughly, large blue eyes looking at him completely unguarded here.

It hits him then that she has no idea either. The two of them are at a complete stale mate. Jack laughs at the irony. He has never been good at talking.

He sighs and settles for the most hated cliché of all. 'Carter, when it's right, it will happen.'

Blue eyes twinkle in the dim light, she can see the humour in the otherwise awkward situation and he thinks to himself how can he ever remember a time before he loved this woman.

She nods silently, fidgeting on her toes as she flicks a bit of dust from the top of the arm chair.

Jack doesn't say anything as he leaves that night, and Sam watches him go with hopeful eyes. He doesn't trust himself to give her a goodbye hug, and he shuffles out the door.

The next morning, he sits in his office, a cup of coffee steaming on the corner of his desk. An email lies in wait, taunting him to open it as the letters of her name hover on the screen. The time stamp shows it came in before he had even woken for the day; he can imagine her at the airport chewing the inside of her lip as she contemplated all the possible outcomes of sending the email.

He clicks on the email.

 _Good to know you are still watching out for me. Just don't watch out too long._

It's the closest they've come to flirting in years, and a broad smile lines his face.

He sips his coffee before typing a reply, one finger at a time.

It's their word, six letters that mean everything to the two people who had been in the room to hear it whispered not too long ago. But the meaning had been there from the very beginning.

 _Always._


	5. Unmoving in May

_a/n: I realise it has been over a year since I have updated this. I apologise immensely; real life just got in the way. Since this was started, I moved halfway across the world; 17,000km from home, got engaged, and entered my final year of study. (As it is, I am *supposed* to be writing a 3k word law essay due in *ahem* 12 hours)._

 _Hopefully you are all still with me on this. Rest assured, it will be finished!_

* * *

 **A Year in Motion:** **Unmoving in May**

* * *

She stands in the kitchen - a place she rarely is these days – and stares at the coffee machine on the countertop.

For some ungodly reason, the small stainless steel device has decided this morning that it would refuse to work.

And, now on this early Saturday morning, she is suddenly deprived of coffee.

Briefly, she ponders the idea of rigging naquadah into it. Then she'll always have coffee, and the damned thing will have no more excuses to die.

But, the idea seems superfluous when she considers she is never really home. The sheer amount of dust and dirt built up around the place attests to that particular fact.

She should probably clean it today.

But, her lab in the underground complex hidden away in Nevada has _so_ much more appeal than even she realized when she first took up the posting. That is why she is never home.

It keeps her from her thoughts. And, thinking too much about _them_.

From wondering what will happen, and what will be next. From dreaming of a world where she isn't a military astrophysicist and he isn't a damaged, former blacks-ops-Colonel-turned-desk-jockey General because he grew tired of killing.

And, tired of waiting.

Sam's feet are bare, padding lightly on the floorboards of a house that has never felt like her own. It's still early, and the stifling heat of the summer has yet to hit them.

She can't sleep, but that's no surprise.

She thinks she should be tired, because she has no coffee and it's far too early for even the birds to be chirping in the trees.

Her thoughts have been going around in her head, pulling her from the rest she so desperately needs. His final word to her email has been burned into her mind, and when she closes her eyes, that's all she sees.

 _Always._

She's been torturing herself the last few weeks, events going over and over in her scattered mind trying to piece together where it all started to go so wrong.

Where their transition from colleagues to friends to something more should have been easy, familiar and simple.

Instead, it's fraught with emotional complications only heightened by the distance between them and the damn chain-of-command they can't seem to extract themselves from.

Maybe, they know each other too well.

And, that's the problem.

She hasn't seen him since he walked out of her hotel room, and she'd long since lost the courage to call him, or even email him after the one-worded reply she'd received to her flirtatious, and not-so-subtle message.

Suddenly, she longs for the days of SG-1. The days where she could see him and know immediately what he was thinking just by the expression on his face.

She realises she is still staring at the coffee machine, an empty mug hanging loosely in her hand.

A noise outside breaks her from her thoughts, and she knows it's too early for it to be the neighbours and their young children. She hears the noise far too clearly over the ticking of her clock for it to be anything but another person.

She's determined to ignore it, and content to stand rooted in her dusty kitchen with a coffee machine that refuses to work despite her best mechanical knowledge.

But, it gets the better of her and she heads toward her front door anyway.

Bits of hair fall forward into her eyes, and she wraps her arms over her chest, yanking the door open with more force than strictly necessary.

He is taller than she remembers, standing on her porch with dark shades covering his eyes.

The mug slips from her grasp, and shatters around her bare feet.

'Carter.'

The soft lilt of her name from his lips makes her heart thud painfully in her chest. He barely flinches as the sound of breaking porcelain ricochets through the morning peace.

She wants to ask what he is doing here, at oh-six-hundred on a Saturday morning, standing on her porch in Nevada like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Like it wasn't anything but expected.

And demand in all hell why the last time they'd been this close, she'd been needing him desperately and he's gently explained why they couldn't do this.

The early morning light is feathering touches on her scarcely maintained garden; the warmth of May emanating through in rays of sunlight broaching her house with the dawn. The sky behind him in the distance is dark, clouds threatening to rumble over and spill down on them.

It's going to rain later.

Suddenly, she's angry about her mug. Irrationally so.

Her mouth opens, and closes. The anger is there inside her, threatening to spill over but she can't let herself lose control that way.

So desperately, she wants to put all her frustration into a single use of his title.

 _Sir._

 _General._

 _Jack._

She isn't sure what to call him, or how to address his casual use of her name, so she stares at him. Her eyebrows raise in silent question.

In this moment, her response will define exactly what they are.

His hands flick on the side of the light bag she hadn't realised he was carrying.

She muses lightly to herself that it could be a sign that they are getting too deep into something that they just can't control.

They've waited for so long.

She knows she doesn't want that control anymore.

And, she's tired of waiting for him to make that choice for her.

Because, she knows he never will.

His dark eyes are warm, and she thinks she can get used to seeing him look at her this way. Without the burden of command.

Her frustration is ebbing.

He steps toward her, the sound of cracking porcelain under his boots hard to hide.

Swallowing thickly, she meets his eyes and invites him in.

* * *

The rain clouds eventually roll in, splattering big fat drops against her window that she is so sure has dust leaching from every pore. Suddenly, the dust bothers her.

The wind has picked up slightly, but lacks the ferociousness she thought was coming.

Her mind flicks back and she is caught in a whirlwind of memories and emotion. She can still feel the way his fingers dug into her hip as they barely made it in the door, and her back was up against the wall, his thigh pushing its way between her legs before she'd even had a chance to say hello.

Or, a chance to yell.

She isn't sure what she feels anymore; only that she woke up needing him at one point during the last eight years and never really stopped.

They've been lying there, together, staring at spots on her wall, her ceiling or her window.

Anything, if only to avoid looking at each other and addressing what they have just done.

It doesn't feel as wrong as she thought it would.

After the weeks apart, after the way he kissed her against _that_ tree back in a rainy April, she was so sure that this was how it was meant to be between them.

A lifetime of waiting. Of wanting.

It's many hours later before Jack finally speaks, and she finds it so surprising that he is the one to break the silence.

'I never thought this would happen,' he mutters, running a finger over the crisp sheets of her rarely-used bed.

'Really?' Sam asks, her voice soft.

In truth, she wasn't so sure either at one point. The urge to tell him that all he had to do was say the word, and she'd follow him anywhere was overwhelming.

That, at some point in their final years of SG-1, she'd suddenly stopped caring so much about her career.

And that when Pete had come along, and presented her with the opportunity for a normal life, she hadn't been able to say no.

She'd wanted so desperately in those moments to hear Jack say the words that would save her from a terrible choice.

He doesn't answer her question for a while; the ticking of the clock in the hallway is the only thing filling the silence. The rain on the window starts to lighten.

It seems so impossible only a few months ago, when their journey with the Goa'uld was ending, that they'd ever end up here. Together.

And, yet here they are.

His hands are trailing around, tracing endless patterns of things in his mind she cannot see.

It's fascinating her, the way his mind works.

It's ironic that they always end up near each other when it's raining.

In the eight years she has known him; his hands were never idle. Even now, his fingers skim the ends of her hair. His expression is unreadable, and she knows even if she asked what was on his mind, he would never tell.

'Do you know what I think,' Jack asks, breaking the silence.

His voice is soft and breathy on her face.

Sam hesitates. She isn't sure she really wants to know what he thinks.

'Mmm?'

Curiosity gets the better of her.

'You should let your hair grow a bit.'

So _that_ was on his mind. Her hair. For all the emotional turmoil inside of her, sometimes she forgets that he can be so… simple.

She smothers a smile, keeping her voice as level as possible. 'Any particular reason why?'

Jack rolls over onto his back, sighing. The crisp air-force issue sheets crackle under his weight and she thinks to herself she probably should have bought her own linen by now.

It's a long moment before he speaks again.

'It feels a bit too much like I am sleeping with the Major.'

His words are light, but the inference is there. There is _too much_ Air Force in this room. Even when they try to hide it.

Sam sits up, blue eyes sparkling with what she hopes is humour. She does not expect that to come out of his mouth.

His words are startling honest, and she thinks to herself that even after all this time, she has never really known the man underneath the uniform.

Maybe, she never will.

'Really?' this time she can't quite hide the emotion. 'I thought you wanted to sleep with the Major?'

She tries to inject a little more humour into the air, taking a leaf from his playbook and covering her own intense feelings she doesn't quite know how to manage.

'Captain and Colonel, yes. But not the Major,' he sits up as he speaks, swinging his legs off the bed and walking to his long-discarded pants.

His sudden departure surprises her, as does the serious undertones in his own statement. The muscles in his back are tense, and she can see the way he moves stiffly with pain.

It's a stark reminder that they are no longer the young officers that they had once been.

She wonders if he has done this before; bedded someone under his command. Maybe Jack and Sam waited too long.

The question hovers on her tongue, but she really doesn't need to ask it. She knows the answers.

Just as she knows why the Colonel wanted to forget the Major. Too many things happened in the years she held that rank; the Zata'rcs, the mine, Jack and Teal'c going far too deep into space.

She doesn't even venture into the Nirrti realm, or the many times one of them ended up stranded without the other.

And, if she is really honest, the years she held that rank highlighted all the reasons why they couldn't be just Jack and Sam. Why relationships between officers were _never_ a good idea.

Suddenly, she isn't sure they can even do _this_ now.

There were too many times when they nearly lost each other. He doesn't need to tell her that the thought of Major Carter never brings up anything good. If she's honest, the thought of the Major never really holds well for her either.

But, everyone wanted Captain Carter. She smiles to herself at the memory. A young, blonde Air Force Captain that had a chip on her shoulder the size of a small planet. Oh boy, what she wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall for the conversations in the men's locker room at _that_ time.

Suddenly, she longs to be that Captain again. When everything was simple and she was able to look at Jack O'Neill with nothing more than the eyes of someone under his command.

And, by the time she made Colonel, she was well and truly off limits to everyone. She may as well have had a fluorescent sign plastered to her forehead that said "Property of J O'Neill".

She smiles a little at the thought.

'Hungry?'

His voice startles her, and the sudden change of subject confuses Sam for a minute. She focuses her eyes on him intently, piecing together what he just said amongst her scrambled thoughts.

'Sure,' she mummers, hoping it is the right answer when he continues to stare.

He turns on his heel and exits the room without a backwards glance. Somehow, the light-hearted early morning conversation she'd tried to have had failed dismally.

But, she's never been good at 'after'.

Pete flashes briefly before her eyes, in another room, in another house, in another town. He'd left silently too.

Only this time, the sight of Jack disappearing didn't feel quite so _wrong_.

Sam sighs, and climbs out of bed. She searches briefly for her clothing, but settles instead for her favourite jeans and comfortable jumper before heading out into the kitchen where the smell of coffee is calling.

She can't help but wonder how he managed to fix her god-damn coffee machine.

* * *

They're not good at talking. They never have been.

Jack honestly believes it should be their life mantra.

It's been hours since his rude departure from the bedroom, and neither of them have broached the subject since.

Carter has been quiet, keeping to herself with her nose buried in a book at the end of the sofa.

Jack finds himself content to just watch her. He's not even sure if he should ask her what she is reading with such intense fascination.

He probably wouldn't understand it anyway.

It suddenly strikes him as a little odd that this is the first time they have been in a domestic setting together; free of regulations and other team members. She seems almost content, to spend a Saturday afternoon reading as the world ticks by.

In all his domestic fantasies, he has never once imagined Carter sitting doing _nothing._

And, it's not as awkward as he imagined it to be.

Somehow, it's comforting.

A small part of him knows that had the world been a little kinder, Sara would be sitting opposite him right now.

But he also knows Sara would have never let it be; never let him treat her like that, disappearing from the bedroom and not call him out on it. She would be demanding, and want to know _exactly_ what it was that bothered him.

Sara hadn't had the years of military training.

She had never really understood what it meant to be a soldier, and she'd never been able to accept that sometimes there were things he just couldn't say.

He appreciates Carter a little bit more in that moment. She understands his need for silence; understands his need to bury himself with his own thoughts.

They both keep their own counsel.

He's seen her do the same; bury herself in the past and shut everybody out.

He misses the way she glances up from the book sharply, feeling his eyes on her.

'Something wrong?' she asks.

Her inflection sounds odd to his ears. He'd never thought he'd miss the way she started and ended a sentence with his moniker.

 _Sir._

 _Colonel._

 _General._

Over the years, it had somehow come to define them.

Staring at her, his mouth opens slowly. 'No.'

She watches him for a moment more before dropping her gaze back to the book in her hand. He wonders if she is actually reading the words, or just feigning to be busy until he was ready to talk.

He isn't sure he will ever be able to voice what is on his mind.

Her eyes flick over the words on her page, before resting on him slightly.

'Come here,' he says. Two simple words that have defined their relationship ever since Daniel was lost in the murky waters of a planet they visited long ago.

A small smile graces her features, and he watches with interest as she unfolds herself from the couch. Her steps are light and graceful as she moves toward him.

Pausing, she surveys him through shining eyes. She steps forward cautiously, and he opens his arms to her.

He hopes that he can reassure her with this simple gesture. He knows she won't pressure him, and she will wait for him to voice his concerns in his own time.

He thinks he loves her just a little bit more in those short moments.

'I do have one question though,' she says, eyeing him seriously.

'Mm?' he asks, trailing his hand up her side, counting the ribs with his fingertips.

'How did you fix my damned coffee machine?'

He watches her seriously for a moment, before leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

'That Carter,' he whispers against her skin. 'Is a secret.'


End file.
